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Sunday, October 9, 2011

Morrison Gets Arrested in New Haven- Dec. 9, 1967


I am posting part of the scene but not the entire night in jail and all of that. I am posting only the part where Jim is arrested and Liz goes to jail with him. If you want all of it...you must buy the book. lol 
'I arrived in New Haven early in the morning of December ninth. The crisp, cold air assaulted my flesh and my senses as I waited for a taxi to pick me up. I had a map that Jack had given me and I was headed to a cheap motel close to The New Haven Arena so I could get a couple of hours sleep and walk to the show. I had butterflies in my stomach at the thought of seeing Jim Morrison in action once again. I wondered if he would be different on stage now that his name was well-known and the band had a reputation to live up to. I hated to think that he would commercialize himself but it seemed to happen to the best of artists. Still, I couldn’t imagine Morrison being anything but himself.
     After an hour spent getting ready I set off into the cold night for the concert with my purse that contained my recorder, a notebook, and two ink pens. I realized only once I was in the motel that I had forgotten my camera in L.A. It was something for Jack to bitch at me about and it was something I regretted. Still, I was intent on getting an interview. I had even tried to track down the hotel that the band was staying in without success. At that point, as I walked into the snowy night, I figured I would just have to go about getting my interview the old fashioned way. I would find the tour bus or the car that would take the band from the show and I would make sure I left the concert early enough to catch the guys as they were coming out.
     The show started out great. Jim was performing amazingly well and I was happy to see that little had changed in him since his days at The Whisky. His voice sounded great, he was moving around the stage like a madman, even scattering bits of his poetry throughout the songs. There were cops everywhere but this didn’t seem totally out of place. The Doors, and more importantly their fans, had a reputation for being wild and blatantly anti-establishment. Hell, let’s be honest, we were! Anyway, the band was doing When the Music’s Over, Jim shouting, “We want the world and we want it NOW!” to a decent sized crowd of us who felt the same way. Then, immediately after that song was finished, the first notes of Back Door Man and Jim’s primal scream cut through the old hockey rink. We all went into wild cheering, shouting along with the song because it was just that kind of tune, especially live. Then the instrumental part in the middle of the song began and Jim started to rap about an issue he had backstage concerning himself, a girl, and a “little man in a little blue suit with a little blue cap.”
     The speech has since been practically immortalized in books and in the 1991 Oliver Stone film, ‘The Doors’. For those of you who missed it, it seemed that Jim was “talking” to a girl back stage (when he emphasized it saying “We were just talking” I was among many who shouted, “Yeah, right!”) when a cop came in, gave him some trouble, and eventually ended up macing him. I was grinning through the whole speech and when he declared, “The world hates me! The whole fucking world hates me!” I laughed. It was amusing to me, this tale of his. Anyway, he got through with his speech and he launched back into the song for about half a minute before the lights in the auditorium came on and the music stopped.
      Jim blinked, a look of confusion set on his face, as he asked us, or rather them, why the lights were on. Of course, we had no answer and the cops apparently thought it was a rhetorical question because no one said a word. Then he asked if we wanted more music. We, of course, shouted yes and he began shouting at the cops to turn the lights off. We watched as Ray Manzarek got up from his organ to whisper something into Jim’s ear but whatever he said did not quiet the Lizard King, who continued to shout. That’s when things went from bad to worse for the God of Rock. 
     I will never forget the cops rushing the stage and Jim, calm as I had ever seen him, holding out the mic to an officer, telling him to say his thing. I thought it was amazing, this subtle yet blatant defiance. However, the New Haven police department was simply not amused. That’s when they grabbed him, obviously arresting him right on stage! I fled in a rush and I was out of the auditorium by the time the cop declared the show over. Eventually I caught up with the cops and I watched in horror as they beat the hell out of Jim Morrison. What did I think I was going to do about it? Hell, I had no idea. But I wasn’t the only one determined to somehow stop them. These two guys, photographers for Life I think, had caught the whole thing on film. As soon as Jim was tossed into a police car they arrested those guys and a couple of others. There I stood, more outraged than ever at what the establishment had done, and I shouted at the officer whose car Jim was in, “What the fuck do you think you are doing, man? What the hell is your problem?” That was it. With two sentences I bought my first trip to jail.
     “You had better watch that mouth, little girl, or you’ll be next!” The cop declared. It was supposed to be a warning but to me it was a challenge.
     “What? Are you going to beat me up? Take me to jail? Go for it! It would be a perfect ending to my shitty week, asshole!” I shouted back.
     Within seconds the cop was on me. I don’t think he had cuffs left so he just grabbed my hands with one arm, opened the door, and threw me in the car by my hair. I still had a little bit of a fight left in me and I punched the window, attempting to break the glass, just to see what the cop would do. All I broke, though, was my hand. “To think, I didn’t want to come to this fucking show!” I said sarcastically. Then I remembered whom I was sitting next to and I added, “Of course, if I had known I would be sharing a cop car with Jim Morrison…”
     “You definitely would have kept your ass at home?” Jim asked with a laugh. He looked like a wounded animal in the moonlight. His arms were behind his back, his clothes were a mess, and the bastards must have hurt his ribs or something because when he laughed he winced yet there was still a twinkle of defiance in his eyes.
     “No, I would’ve come but I would have brought more than twenty extra bucks with me and I would not have come alone! Oh, I can’t wait to make this fucking phone call! I would almost rather stay in jail!” I said with a giggle. I was sharing a cop car with Jim Morrison! No twenty one year old girl in 1967 could have honestly complained about that no matter the circumstances.'


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